To the Last
by R0cketScient1st
Summary: A quick one-shot from the end of the Revenge of the Sith. In a universe where Kit Fisto survives the botched arrest of Chancellor Palpatine, this story tells what might have happened in the hours following the duel. Obvious spoilers for RoTS, particularly the rise of the Empire.


_A/N: Obviously there are a number of non-canon things going on here, but after watching The Clone Wars and re-watching RotS, I really wanted a better resolution for my favorite Jedi. This is mostly a story for myself rather than something I spent hours slaving over, so let me know if you catch any errors. Also, I'm clearly a huge angst-ophile, so apologies in advance! Leave a comment below. :-)_

* * *

 _Pain._

Jedi Master Kit Fisto slowly regained consciousness, gradually becoming aware of the most intense pain he had ever felt. He groaned softly, trying to remember how he had ended up here. Where was he? He tried to look around, but the motion made him feel sick. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the wave of nausea and dizziness, desperately trying to maintain wakefulness. A memory flashed in front of his closed eyes: a red lightsaber, a betrayal.

Chancellor Palpatine. The Dark Lord of the Sith.

They'd fought. Palpatine had won. Kit had been killed...or...not? Awareness flooded his brain. No, he was alive. He was still lying on the floor of the Chancellor's office. He'd been sliced across the midriff by the Chancellor's fell blade, but it hadn't been enough to kill him. He could feel his twin hearts beating slightly out of sync, working hard to keep him alive.

At least so far. Kit knew he had to leave before he was discovered. He forced his eyes open again and ever so carefully looked to his side.

"Saesee. Agen," Kit whispered, noticing their corpses beside him. They'd been slain so quickly... Kit shuddered, attempting a basic calming ritual to keep his emotions at bay.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace_.

There would be time for mourning later – right now he had to focus on escaping.

Cautiously, Kit moved a hand to his wound to see how bad it was. It was bad, but the saber blade had cauterized the skin so there was no danger of his bleeding out. Mercifully, it appeared to have missed his vital organs. If he could get medical attention soon, he'd live. The only question was how far the Chancellor's betrayal had gone. Whom could he trust?

No one. He could trust no one. That was the only way to be absolutely sure he wouldn't be betrayed again. Where was Mace? The elder Jedi had been with them when they tried to arrest Palpatine, but his body was nowhere to be seen. Had he survived? A wave of hope gave Kit the courage to stand.

It was awful. The intense pain returned, and he gasped, darkness closing in around his vision...

And then it stilled. His vision cleared. The pain didn't lessen, but he distanced himself from it, put it in a back corner of his mind. He shuffled forward, bracing one arm on the wall of the Chancellor's office, the other clutching his wound, trying to support his midsection so he didn't rupture it further.

Every step was agony. He strained his senses to their limit, trying to divine whether anyone else was in the apartment complex. It appeared to be empty, but Kit knew full well any surprise would be his last. Nearly tripping over Saesee as he hobbled out of the office, he cast a mournful eye over his dear friend's body. How quickly everything had changed. _The Temple_ , Kit decided. _I have to get to the Jedi Temple. Perhaps Mace will have answers_. Assuming Mace was alive…he quashed the thought before it took root and doggedly plodded to the elevator.

He marveled at the scene that greeted him below: utter chaos. The Chancellor's apartment was several blocks away from the Temple, and everything Kit could see from where he stood was in turmoil. He could hear shouting. The Temple itself was on fire.

"No," he murmured. "It can't be." Mace, Anakin...were any left? It looked as though the betrayal hadn't stopped with the Chancellor. The whole city might have turned against the Jedi; he couldn't risk being seen. As he pondered his next move, a transport zoomed by. Kit ducked into a shadow and took a few slow, shuddering breaths. What could he do? Where could he go? He needed a doctor – there was no other option. Perhaps even if the Temple had been evacuated, one of the medical centers would still be functional.

 _I have to try_ , he decided. He instinctively tried to flash a big grin, but for once had nothing to smile about.

An abandoned speeder bike had been left in the alley beside the complex and Kit stole it without a second thought. There was no way he'd be able to walk back to the Temple in his condition. He avoided the main thoroughfares and wove between darkened alleys and back roads, which made the trip long and slow, especially as he felt his initial adrenaline wear off, fatigue setting in.

Night had fallen, but scattered fires mingled with city lights so that it was as bright as day. The screams were dying out, and Kit could feel the void in the Force. It was an intense, inner pain almost as dreadful as his physical wound. There was no denying the truth now: the Jedi Order had been destroyed. Likely enough, there were other survivors like himself, but the empty feeling in Kit's chest told him those survivors were precious few. Who had done this? Even the Dark Lord of the Sith didn't have enough power to wipe out thousands of Jedi Knights in a day. Others, many others, must be working for him. _Trust no one_ , he reminded himself.

 _Aayla_. A tortured thought broke through the mental barrier he'd constructed. Where was she? Felucia? Was she all right? He reached out with the Force...and found silence. Perhaps it was the great distance, or the strong Force aura Felucia produced. Perhaps Aalya yet lived. Perhaps...

Kit barely noticed the pain as this new worry gripped him. _No! Focus, Fisto_ , he commanded himself. _Don't give in to fear_.

 _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge_.

He would have answers soon, he reminded himself as he neared the Temple. It calmed him, a bit. Somehow, he avoided whatever patrols and security must have been in the streets and arrived at the Temple without incident. It was eerily quiet. No screams emanated from inside, no beings rushed out or in...his tentacles picked up no emotion whatsoever from inside the Temple. That had never happened before. Always there had been a low-level _something_ , even when most of the Jedi were off-planet. Now, utter silence, emptiness. Kit again took deep breaths to calm the fear rising like bile in the back of his throat. There _were_ other survivors. There had to be. Palpatine hadn't killed _everyone_ , had he?

With great care, Kit dismounted the speeder, groaning from the pain the effort produced. A warning voice in the back of his mind was telling him not to go in, but he had to know. He had to see if they were all gone.

They were. The Temple corridors were dark and abandoned. Kit stuck to the shadows anyway, sure that whoever had bested the entire Jedi Order was lurking just around the corner. He encountered no resistance, however, and he gradually ascended through the floors of the Temple.

It was the Academy that eventually stopped Kit in his tracks. Bodies were strewn everywhere, bodies of Younglings. Horrorstruck, Kit stood in stunned silence, staring at the carnage. A quick count was all Kit needed to be certain very few, if any, had escaped. He fell to his knees beside a young Nautolan - Zatt, was that his name?

Kit noted with distant interest the tears that were streaming down his face. He'd never wept before, never had reason to. But this...who would butcher Younglings? This should not be. Someone should have stopped the murderer. _He_ should have stopped the murderer, or at least been killed too. Why had the Force allowed him to live, but these children to die? It wasn't fair! Anger mingled with fear twisted Kit's stomach, and he pitched forward onto his hands.

 _There is no passion, there is serenity._

A sound. Kit froze. Someone was behind him.

"By the Force...Master Fisto?" A quiet voice inquired, sounding as weary as Kit felt. Kit turned his head slightly; it was a small knot of clone troopers. Warning bells went off in Kit's mind, but he was too exhausted to care.

"Captain Rex. Have you come to kill me?"

"No, Sir."

"Why? Why the children?" It was all he could bring himself to say. A quiet sob racked his body as he passed a hand over Zatt's short tentacles.

"I-I don't know, Sir. I barely escaped, myself. Something went wrong with the clones, Sir; they started shooting their generals. Only Jedi, though. We were ordered to kill all of you...but Sir, I couldn't. Everything in me is telling me to kill you right now, but I don't think I can. It's wrong. You haven't _done_ anything!" Rex declared, anguished, and Kit regarded him again, more closely. The Captain looked older than he ever had before, and there was a new darkness behind his eyes. The small group of clones with Rex shuffled nervously behind him, all avoiding looking at Kit.

"Why don't you just kill me then, Captain? Get it over with. I've suffered enough." Kit was still on his hands and knees, which was not a particularly honorable way to die, but he didn't much care. It was easier than living with the memory of this day.

"No, Sir, I'm not going to kill you. The Chancellor said the Jedi betrayed the Republic. He ordered us to execute you all, but I can't join with anyone that slaughters _children_." Kit noticed tears in Rex's eyes, and it occurred to him that Rex was as confused as he was. Kit stared blankly at him, mind unable to concoct any action.

"Commander Fisto, Sir, you need medical attention," another clone spoke up.

Commander Wolffe, Kit recognized him. Wolffe worked with..."Plo Koon?" Kit asked. "Where is he?"

Wolffe looked down, a shadow passing over his face. "Did you kill him?" Kit demanded, remarking at how much anger laced his accusation.

"No, Sir! I did not," Wolffe responded, equally angry and somewhat offended. "I have not raised my blaster against a single Jedi, though when I refused to fire on them I was arrested for treason. Rex broke me and a few others who disobeyed orders out of the holding cells. I tried to contact General Plo in time to warn him, but... It was an honorable death, Sir," choked Wolffe.

Kit shook his head in disbelief. Plo gone. How many more? Then, finally, he asked the question he most feared asking. "Aayla?" His voice was barely above a whisper. He knew the answer already, but he needed to hear it.

"I-I'm sorry, Sir." A pause. "Were you close with General Secura?" Rex spoke softly, sympathetically.

"Yes," Kit said simply, voice cracking with unexpected grief. All his plans to focus on the moment were vanishing like so much dust. He gazed numbly at the ground.

"General Fisto, Sir, we need to get out of here. The other battalions will be returning to clear out the Temple..."

"Of course, Captain Rex, get out while you can. I-I think I will remain here and face my fate."

Rex bent down and placed a hand on Kit's shoulder. "Sir, with all due respect, we're not leaving you here. My sworn duty is to defend the Republic, and as I see things right now, you're all that's left of the Republic. So either you come with us, or we go down defending you here. We need to fight. _I_ need to fight. If there's one thing I learned from serving with Commander Tano and Commander Skywalker, it's that blindly following orders only leads to more suffering. I've come too far to give up now." He voice held such certainty, such intensity, that Kit met his gaze and realized how selfish he was being.

"I apologize, Captain Rex. You've lost as many friends today as I have; I will accompany you, stand with you, and die with you if it comes to that."

"Yes, Sir," Captain Rex sighed with relief. He and Wolffe helped Kit stand, but as they started making their way to the lower floors, Rex stopped short.

"Clones," he hissed warningly. Kit listened closely, and he heard it too. Hundreds of marching feet were coming toward them.

The rebel clones with Captain Rex cast anxious glances at each other and one asked, "Captain Rex, Sir, what are we going to do?"

And in that moment, Kit knew exactly what needed to be done. He carefully extricated himself from Rex and Wolffe's grasp and turned to face them. "Captain, you _must_ go. You will be much faster without me. I'll hold them off," _as long as I can_. Kit added silently.

Rex and Wolffe looked at him incredulously. "Sir, there's no way you can fight an entire clone battalion!" Rex argued.

"I know that, Captain Rex," Kit responded, softly but firmly. Wolffe glanced at Rex and some wordless communication transpired.

Finally, Rex sighed resignedly. "We are under your command, General Fisto. If you order us to leave, we'll leave, but we'd rather fight with you."

"No, Captain. This is my fight. Take your men and go somewhere safe. If even one person escapes death this day, then I have done my duty as a Jedi."

Rex said nothing, so Kit continued, "I will never forget your assistance, Captain. You have done your Republic proud, though I fear my life is little reward for your efforts." Then, "Perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps we _are_ the traitors."

After a long, thoughtful pause, Rex said, "No, I don't think so, Sir, if you don't mind my saying. I know where my allegiances lie, and I've disobeyed orders before to save innocent lives. From what I understand, General, you're as innocent anyone can be in a war. You've always looked for peaceful resolutions to conflict and had nothing but kind words for us clones. You're a hero of the Republic in my book, no matter what the Chancellor says," Rex spoke with enough conviction that Kit found himself believing him.

"Thank you, Captain; your confidence means more to me than you know. In my opinion, you and your men are the heroes today. I wish you well, wherever this fight leads. May the Force be with you." Kit was a creature of few words, but he hoped Rex understood how much he meant each one of those words.

"And with you, General." Rex saluted, and all the other clones with him followed suit. Kit bowed his head in acknowledgement and turned away as the clones trotted off into the shadows.

The incoming clone battalion was closer, rising through the Temple floors. Kit retrieved a pair of lightsabers, fallen beside their former wielder and sighed, resolve taking hold, replacing the emptiness within him.

The clones arrived in full force, hundreds of soldiers in perfect military formation. They halted when they saw him, and for a moment they faced each other in silence: a lone Jedi against an army.

The clones fired. Kit ignited the sabers, deflecting the first blaster barrage and clearing his mind.

 _There is no chaos, there is harmony._

He advanced, swinging his dual sabers, beginning Form I. The familiar movements were a welcome distraction from all the horrors he had witnessed. He fought like he'd never fought before. He fought for the Republic. For the Jedi Order. For Aayla.

Mindlessly, he flowed like a whirling green tornado through the steps. Forward. _Slash_. Right. _Slash_. His wounds for the moment forgotten, he relished the peace granted by Shii-Cho. Clones fell before the sweeping blades, but for every soldier he felled, two more stepped forward. He didn't have long, he knew, but he would give Rex as much time as possible.

There was no break in the action. Wave upon wave of soldiers approached, fired, and fell before him. Blaster bolts occasionally connected, but Kit barely felt them. Gradually his movements slowed as the clones pressed ever forward.

And then a second battalion emerged behind the first, weapons at the ready.

This was it: the end.

 _There is no death, there is the Force_.

Kit Fisto smiled.


End file.
